


Lucky

by merryghoul



Category: Boardwalk Empire
Genre: Drug Dealing, Epistolary, Fights, Future Fic, Gen, Heroin, Historical, Historical Reenactment, Murder, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-29
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 20:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/577484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merryghoul/pseuds/merryghoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moments from a decades long friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1914

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thepsychicclam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepsychicclam/gifts).



> A lot of this story is based on various historical accounts of Luciano and Lansky, but wherever possible, I've tried to make this story fit show canon.

It turned out protection was the most valuable thing Salvatore Lucania could offer anyone.

Salvatore wasn't interested in school, only crime. Shoplifting from stores on the Lower East Side provided a thrill and some wares, much to the dismay of Salvatore's parents, but it wasn't enough. Mugging was lucrative for him, but mugging people at school wasn't the smartest thing to do.

He noticed some of the Italians at school were offering protection to Jews. If the Jews paid up, the Italians would keep the other Italian and Irish gangs at bay. If the Jews _didn't_ pay up, then the Italians offering protection would beat the Jews up until they paid or said uncle. Either way, the Italians were making money.

With Galdino and Dolcelino, two boys from Sicilian immigrant families, he formed a protection gang to extort money from the Jews.

After a few successful extortion attempts, Salvatore spotted his next target while he was leaving school.

"Galdino, you think that kid has money on him?" he said.

"Yeah, I think he has money."

Dolcelino laughed. "Are you kidding me? Jews always have money."

The others joined Dolcelino in laughter.

"Short," Salvatore continued. "Skinny. He's not gonna be able to defend himself. This'll be too easy. Let's go, boys."

Salvatore and his gang walked up to the boy in the muddy snow. To Salvatore's surprise, the boy faced Salvatore. The boy didn't attempt to flee. He wasn't nervous.

"Hey, Little Man," Salvatore said, "You want some protection?"

"I don't have any money."

Salvatore cleared his throat. "You're a Jew. You gotta have money. Pay up."

"Go fuck yourself." 

Salvatore chuckled. "Okay, bimbo. You can take your protection for free. Pay me back later."

"You know what? You can take your protection and shove it up your ass."

Before Salvatore could respond to the boy, he found himself being punched in the stomach multiple times. Dolcelino and Galdino tried to pull the boy off of Salvatore, but the boy was able to push both of them away.

"Okay, okay, you don't need no protection!" 

The boy stopped punching Salvatore.

"Little man, you're tougher than I thought. That was one hell of a fight."

"I gotta be tough. I've given a lot of Irish kids some black eyes. It keeps them off my back."

"What's your name?"

"Meyer Lanksy."

Meyer and Salvatore shook hands.

"Salvatore Lucania."

"I do protection rackets too. I gotta get more people, more Jews. I haven't found the right people. But this weekend I'm gonna be at a craps game."

"Craps game?"

"It's me and a few other Jews. You win, you can make about ten dollars a roll. It's interesting."

Salvatore nodded. "That's good money."

Galdino was speechless. 

"Salvatore, you're doing business with a _Jew?_ " Dolcelino said.

"Shut up, Dolcelino."


	2. 1915-17

If there was one drug that defined Salvatore's life, it was heroin. With Meyer by his side, Salvatore would sell heroin to other Sicilian gangsters and undercover policemen alike. Even after Salvatore was forced to leave the United States, he still sold heroin, smuggling it in porcelain dolls in Naples. Heroin would be the start of Salvatore's downfall. His first run-in to it, on the other hand, was the start of a few criminal careers.

After Salvatore met Meyer, he had decided to take on a few aliases to evade the law. Charlie "Lucky" Luciano was one of those aliases. The alias would stick with him for the rest of his life; everyone, from the street gangs to the police officers, would know him by that name.

A dirty Irish cop set Charlie up with possession of heroin. Charlie was found guilty and sentenced to the Hampton Farms Reformatory in New Hampton, New York for a year. 

While Charlie was in Hampton Farms, Meyer built his gang, the Bugs and Meyer Mob. The Mob consisted of Meyer, who was the brain of the operation, hotheaded Ben Siegel (known as Bugsy to his enemies and only to his enemies), Meyer's tall yet dimwitted brother, Jake, Meyer Wassell, known as "Mike," Red Levine, Tabbo Sandler, and Doc Stacher. Together the Mob ran craps games, stole cars and offered protection. 

After serving six months, Charlie was released. He was also out for blood.

Charlie told Meyer and Ben about his setup at a private meeting in a Lower East Side restaurant. At one point Charlie stood up, flung his chair to the ground and said "I’m gonna kill the son of a bitch!"

Meyer had to stand up and restrain Charlie from walking out the restaurant, searching for the cop. 

"Cool it, Charlie," Meyer said. "You don't wanna go back in for killing the cop, do you?"

"I don’t give a fuck."

"Listen, Charlie. Charlie! I have people, Charlie. I have Ben. We'll take care of it. If we do it, no one's going to suspect us. If _you_ do it, it's the electric chair. Let Ben and me handle it."

Charlie took a breath. He walked back to the table and put his chair back up.

* * *

It took a year, but Meyer and Ben planned how to take revenge on the cop who framed Charlie. Meyer set up an alibi for Charlie. Charlie skipped town for a while. 

Days later, the police were looking for an Irishman, 19 years old, the son of a cop.

The police suspected Charlie of the murder. Charlie's alibi threw the police's suspicions out the door. 

Lucky proved to be a fitting nickname. He was lucky in craps and lucky in evading the police. Only his friends would call him that every once in a while, but it was fitting.


	3. Late 1919

Arnold Rothstein believed that Prohibition could be a profitable venture. 

Congress passed the Volstead Act on October 28, 1919. On January 16, 1920, the alcohol in the United States that wasn't already consumed would be destroyed, and the United States would be a dry country, free of vices. 

That was what Congress and the pro-temperance movements thought, anyway. Rothstein didn't see the end of alcohol in the United States. He saw business opportunities. He couldn't profit off of fixing sporting events forever. He'd get caught.

Congress and the pro-temperance movements were minorities in America. Most people wanted booze. Rothstein would bring it to them. 

Rothstein had already talked to a number of people about bringing liquor to New York, including some distilleries in England and Nucky Thompson, who was already in talks of starting up his own bootlegging facilities. He was making some progress with the English distilleries, but Nucky, on the other hand, was too stubborn to help Rothstein. Nevertheless, Rothstein needed partners, and he needed partners as sharp as he was.

Through his dealings with Tammany Hall, Rothstein had heard of a few _shtarkes._ He was particularly interested in Meyer Lansky. The Bugs  & Meyer Gang was the most violent gang in New York City and yet Meyer could keep Bugsy Siegel under control and Jake Lansky from doing something stupid. 

Rothstein and Meyer shared a mutual friend. That friend's son held a lavish bar mitzvah reception in a dance hall. As Meyer stood in a corner watching people dance, Rothstein walked to him.

"I never had this when I was a child," Rothstein said to Meyer. "I read from the Torah and had a meal. I never dreamed of anything like this." 

"A.R.," Meyer said, facing Rothstein. 

"I'm thinking of expanding my operations. Prohibition's coming up. People are going to want alcohol. But I can't bring it to them myself. I need a partner."

"You want me as a partner."

"Yes. I would like for you to meet me at my apartment for a formal business proposal. I think we should also talk clothes as well. I need you to look sharper."

* * *

For six hours Meyer and Rothstein talked about Rothstein's plans for Prohibition, from where he was getting his liquor to his need to find places that could bottle the liquor after it arrived to the States. Rothstein finished his conversation with "I chose you because you're ambitious and hungry. And yet you're a quiet young man. You're like a businessman, and that's what this business needs: less people out for a buck and more people that can see opportunities like Prohibition can keep you financially secure. That's how I made my money. I'm going to teach you how to make money like me. I can see you going far, Lansky. Remember what I've told you. We'll meet again as soon as Prohibition starts. You're free to go."

"A.R.?"

"Yes?"

"I know someone I think you should talk to."

"Who is his? I hope it's not that _chaye_ Siegel."

"No. His name's Charlie Luciano."

"He's Sicilian."

"He's my friend. He has Italian friends, Irish friends, Jewish friends. He thinks like I do. We run the same types of rackets. He's not like Siegel. I think you'd like him, and you do need more men, right, A.R.?"

Rothstein thought for a moment before nodding. "You're right. He's still with the Five Points Gang and Masseria, right?"

Meyer nodded.

"I'll find him."


	4. 1922

"How much did Masseria offer you?" Meyer said to Charlie at their card game offices. 

"Thirty percent."

"That's a lot. You didn't give it to him, did you?"

"In all the years I've known you, Masseria is the only person that has pissed you off." 

"How can he _not_ piss me off? He's saying I'm not trustworthy because I'm a Jew. And he made you sit at the window, all to get back at me. On top of that, he's asking you for 30 percent. He's a thief, and he's saying I'm going to stab you in the back. I wish I could've shoved that heroin up his ass. I'll show him trust when the bastard's overdosing to death."

"Relax, Meyer. I didn't give it to him. We'll find somebody else that doesn't want 30 percent of the profits." Charlie took a breath. "Someday, this Old World thing? It's gonna die out. I'd love to run his gang. And Maranzano's gang. All the gangs."

"You're not a part of those strongholds, Charlie. How are you going to take over them?"

"I don't know yet. But I'm gonna find a way. The heroin, the games, the prostitution? We can combine this. We can make it bigger. Alls these idiots running around killing each other for little dough? If we can combine it, we'll make more profits. I'm gonna be richer than Marazano someday. And I'm gonna celebrate when I make it big. I'll get a bigger space, alls the women, a few new suits…"

Meyer took a breath and nodded. Charlie's idea sounded like a good idea to him. He didn't have to confirm it.


	5. February 9, 1946

Charlie had achieved his dreams by the end of World War II. He had survived the Castellammarese War and the deaths of Joe Masseria and Salvatore Maranzano. He had successfully combined the gangs and operations of New York into one, the Commission. He couldn't make Meyer and Ben a part of the Commission because they were Jewish, but he made Meyer his adviser and Ben his associate.

Then Thomas E. Dewey arrested him for his prostitution racket. 

It wasn't the ten-year jail sentence that bothered Charlie. He was able to maintain control of the Commission there, even stopping New York City from being hit by German spies. It was that Dewey, of all people, wanted him deported to Italy, all because Charlie wasn't a legal citizen of the United States.

February 9, 1946 was Charlie's full last day in the United States. He couldn't spend it walking around his old neighborhoods. He had to stay on a freighter, bound for Italy the next day.

What Charlie _could_ do was have a dinner on his freighter. He invited six people to dinner with him. One of those people was Meyer.

After the dinner, which consisted of the best spaghetti the staff on the freighter could make, Meyer handed Charlie an envelope. 

"The Families, Ben and I chipped in to give you a going away present. It's not much—just a few thousand dollars."

"Thank you, Meyer."

"This is still yours."

"I know."

"We'll figure out a way to get you back in this. We'll—"

"Get outta Dewey's thumb."

"I don't know how long it'll take."

"But you'll get it done."

Meyer nodded.


	6. (Telegram)

SEPTEMBER 17 1946

TELEGRAM

 

MEYER LANSKY TO CHARLIE LUCIANO

 

TALKED TO BAUTISTA.  HE'S WILLING TO LET YOU STAY IN HAVANA TO HELP RUN THE CASINOS THERE.  I KNOW IT'S NOT AMERICA, BUT IT'S CLOSE TO IT. 

YOU'LL HAVE TO SNEAK OUT OF ITALY, BUT YOU'RE LUCKY.  YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN LUCKY.  YOU'LL MAKE IT HERE.  I'M CONFIDENT OF IT.

 

 

(Signed)

MEYER LANSKY

**Author's Note:**

> * At the time, a bimbo meant a tough guy.
>   
> 
> * Yiddish for "strong" or "violent," shtarkes, in this case, means people who were paid to intimate voters into voting a certain way.
>   
> 
> * Yiddish for "untamed," chaye was a common adjective used to describe Siegel's demeanor.
>   
> 
> * Fulgencio Bautista (y Zaldívar) was living in the United States in the mid-1940s after his first presidency in Cuba. However, he still had a hand in Cuban politics as well as the casinos there.


End file.
